race or loggia, with a roof of oaken beams supported by pillars. Here we shall be able to sit and enjoy the cool air, the wide view of the distant mountains, and the musical rippling of a tiny waterfall tumbling down its rocky course through the lawn just below us. On the other side of the house is a quaint, grassy courtyard, with

a fountain of cool water, stone tables and seats. Above the fountain a low wall is covered with luxuriant Virginia creeper, behind which the chestnut woods rise up green and rich, clothing the steep side of a mountain.

Over the door of the house are the family

arms, two ears of "miglio," or "millet," and the date 1637. This rather disappoints us, for we had supposed the house to be much older. The date may possibly be that of its restoration. The windows that command the cortile are protected by curved iron gratings of very fine style.

Issuing from the covered gate which forms the egress of the yard, we find ourselves on the village piazzetta, a chapel stands opposite, and the houses of the peasants irregularly placed lower down, the old mule-pack road winding its stony way amongst them. This rough path, which is paved in the true Etruscan and Roman style, was once the only high road to Modena; but in those days. travelling carriages were not in use.

Following the mule road,—in which the paving stones seem revenging themselves for the centuries. of trampling under foot which they have endured, by standing independently on end, in all positions, to the great peril of unwary passers-by,— we reach the waterfall; cross above it on some large stepping-stones, and arrive at a charming shady nook on the side of the woody hill.

Here is another al fresco settlement, furnished with stone seats and table; also a second fountain pouring its endless tranquil stream from a niche in the rock. Some native artist has adorned

this niche with a round rosy face of incredible flatness, and two uplifted hands coming from "nowhere in particular." Aunt Louisa opines "that the artist meant to embody his idea of Narcissus astonished at his own reflection. But his idea has turned out bodyless; and if Narcissus reflects at all, he has every reason to be astonished at his own ugliness.

On the terrace above the fountain is a flowery garden, where a pillar is conspicuous surmounted by a head carved in stone. This, also, is native talent, and might almost be taken as proof of the Etruscan art which flourished on this soil being indigenous, and not imported; for the head is of exactly the archaic style of the cover of an Etruscan "canopus," ie., cinerary vase, in a human form.

A new house built by the contadini themselves stands close by the garden.

KEY OF CUPBOARD IN SALONE OF THE VILLA.

CHAPTER III.

THE MOUNTAINS WHICH SURROUND THE

NOOK.

June 13.-We have begun to realize that we are indeed living in the mountains, and the spirit of the Apennines enters into our hearts day by day. There is a peculiar joyousness in the light pure air that raises our spirits to a perfect exhilaration; we feel inclined to go into raptures over everything, and take all the human creatures around us into our overflowing affections. The Villa commands a tableland on the side of a chestnut-wooded mountain. All behind the house is woodland, but in front of it the hills divide, opening out into two valleys,--the valley of the Lima, and that of the Libro Aperto.

In the first, the chestnut forests stretch luxuriantly down the slopes from the Nook, till they merge into green pasture lands on the banks of the river Lima, whose wide bed of white rocks, spanned here and there by ancient bridges,

winds serpent-like between the feet of the many mountains, which meet and dovetail into one another, range behind range, till the Pania in the distance seems like a dome of rose-coloured cloud. And every range and every hill has a different character. The Poggio Bombolante stands up grand and rugged in front of us, dividing the one vale from the other. It has two great peaks that shoot up into the sky, forming a harmonious background to a pair of ruined towers, which stand half-way up its side. These are the remains of the medieval castle of Popiglio, the more modern village of the same name straggles along, an irregular row of white and black houses, far below it, yet still above the river. Behind the Bombolante hill a range of rocky precipices, of various warm colours, called the Alpi di Vico arise, and at their feet the little towers and dwellings of Vico Pancelorum. Farther back a wide cone sends its purple point up against the yellow sky, and its ruddy precipices reach down to the Lima. This is Monte Pellegrino, once the abode of holy hermits, who lived almost entirely on the silvery-flowered thistles which abound there. Some peasants still eat these plants, which are something like artichokes when boiled.